The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 212

Chapter 212: A sinister being – 2
Wymar was watching Jolthar launch himself again at that creature. He could sense the creature’s quick reflexes. No matter from which side Jolthar attacked, it reacted faster and even launched straight blows at Jolthar.

Wymar was breathing harder; his injuries from his battle had not healed. But he had no choice. He had to fight; he had to stop this thing from moving any closer to the county or the lands further.

Wymar took a sharp breath and sprang into action, his hands moving in a blur as he formed intricate signs in the air, weaving together raw elements with expert precision.

The sky above darkened for a brief moment as the crackling sound of energy intensified around him.

With a sudden clap, a jagged bolt of lightning erupted from his fingertips, illuminating the battlefield in a blinding flash. But he wasn’t done—his other hand moved swiftly.

Wymar incanted, his voice resonating with power as he followed the lightning spell with a complex water conjuration. The moisture in the air coalesced, drawing additional water from the ground beneath them, forming a massive, coiling serpent of crystalline liquid.

Twenty feet long and thick as a man’s torso, the watery construct moved with the sinuous grace of a living creature, its “eyes” gleaming with sapphire light.

It was all done in a flash.

With a gesture of masterful control that showed why Wymar was considered the most gifted elemental mage of his generation, he merged the two spells.

The lightning attached itself to the water serpent, wrapping around its liquid form in a spiral pattern of devastating power. The combination was as brilliant as it was deadly—water to conduct, lightning to destroy.

The arcs of energy danced along the water’s surface, illuminating its sleek, winding form as it coiled with unrestrained power.

With a flick of his wrist, he commanded the water serpent, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion of controlling such powerful elements simultaneously. If he wasn’t injured, this much wasn’t even a sweat worth.

And then it shot forward.

Like a spear of pure devastation, the electrified water serpent shot forward with impossible speed, darting through the air in a zigzagging pattern that would confound any normal foe. It struck the thing directly in what appeared to be its abdomen—though with such an aberration, it was difficult to discern what might constitute normal anatomy.

A thunderous explosion erupted upon impact.

The detonation of energy engulfed the monstrous being in a searing burst of light, forcing the shadows around them to retreat momentarily. The sound that followed was like thunder magnified a hundredfold, echoing off the distant mountains and sending flocks of ravens screeching into the sky from the nearby forest. The shockwave rippled outward, flattening the tall grass for a hundred yards in every direction.

The ground trembled from the force of the strike, sending loose stones and debris scattering in every direction.

Wymar knew he couldn’t fight much with his injuries, so he was using his powerful attacks right from the start. That thing was looking like a catastrophe; Wymar understood just by feeling the foul energy it was reeking. It would corrupt its surroundings easily.

Jolthar, still recovering from the impact of his earlier fall, took the opportunity to catch his breath. His muscles ached, his grip on his sword tight as he pushed himself up, gaze locked onto the creature through the haze of smoke and crackling remnants of electricity.

The dark silver void energy of his Voidwrath swirled around him, responding to his pain and anger, begging to be unleashed in its fullest form—a temptation he had sworn to resist except in the direst circumstances.

But Wymar was already preparing his next move. His eyes, sharp with battle-hardened focus, quickly analysed the results of his attack. He knew his attack didn’t yield much in results.

And what he saw made his stomach sink.

As the blinding light faded, both of them could see that Wymar’s devastating attack had struck true—but its effect was not what they had hoped.

The monstrous entity had been forced back several steps by the impact, leaving deep gouges in the ground where its massive feet had dragged. But it still stood.

The strike had forced it to stagger a few steps back, its hulking form momentarily pushed by the sheer force of the impact—but that was it.

No crippling damage.

No sign of agony.

Where the water serpent had struck, there was now a deep, smouldering crater-like, a deeper wound. But what lay revealed beneath was more horrifying than either man could have anticipated.

It was wrong.

Where flesh should have been, there was something else—something hideous. It resembled shredded, minced meat, but it was neither human nor beast. The thick red mass of tissue pulsed and twisted unnaturally.

From this unholy flesh oozed a viscous substance that was neither blood nor ichor but something far more alien. Where it dripped to the ground, the ground hissed and blackened, the grass withering instantly as though centuries had passed in seconds.

The liquid burned.

It was corroding the very ground beneath it, eating through rock and dirt like an unstoppable acid.

And then—

The creature roared.

That thing threw back what passed for its head and let out another roar—a sound not of pain but of rage and hunger, as though Wymar’s attack had merely whetted its appetite for destruction.

The roar reverberated throughout the area, even the forest, making anyone or any beast to run away in fear.

Its pale, milky white eyes flared even brighter, now burning with a deeper, more menacing intensity. The attack hadn’t killed it. It had angered it. And its gaze was again locked onto them, with renewed malevolence.

Jolthar and Wymar braced themselves once more, their bodies tense as they prepared for what came next.

But they were not the only ones watching.

Unknown to the embattled pair, from the county’s side, standing amidst the rocky terrain, was a man.

And it was Myron.

He had arrived mere moments ago, right at the moment when that thing had made its appearance. And that thing made him stop.

“What sort of abomination is this?” He whispered to himself, his fingers dug into the tree where his hand rested.

He didn’t move forward. He didn’t interfere.

Instead, he stood at a distance, watching.

His sharp golden eyes narrowed as he observed the battle unfold, his fist clenched at his side. He was watching that thing, that creature with a curious gaze.

Something about that creature, about its presence, about the way it reacted.

He came here to fight Jolthar, but it seemed like he was already fighting the creature. So he wanted to watch Jolthar fight. He wanted to see just how strong Jolthar was.

–

And then there was the other watcher.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, hidden amongst the shadows, another figure observed the clash with an entirely different expression.

Unlike Myron, whose stance was tense with caution, this one watched with something far more sinister—eagerness.

His gaze was sharp and analytical but filled with an almost unsettling delight.

Like an alchemist watching his experiment unfold.

Like a scholar seeing his greatest theory confirmed.

His violet eyes never left the sight before him, his lips curled ever so slightly, his dark robes barely rustling in the wind as he observed the monstrosity that stood before them.

He was Yilar.

The Nynthrall.

And he had been expecting this.

He had been watching with a glint in his eyes. So zealous as he leaned back onto a tree.

“That mage, even though I had dealt him a blow, he is still standing strong.” The Tier 9 mage, one of the strongest mages of the empire, was proving to be a formidable opponent.

“And that boy, it sure is surprising to watch him here,” Yilar mused.

“Let’s see how long you can fight my creation.”

–

The acid-like blood hissed as it devoured the soil, releasing noxious fumes that twisted upward in sickly green tendrils.

Wymar stepped back, his calculating mind rapidly assessing their dire situation.

“Jolthar,” Wymar called, his regal features taut with concentration, “we must coordinate our attacks. This… abomination shrugs off single assaults, no matter how powerful.”

Jolthar stood tall, his silver-snow hair catching the fading light as he nodded grimly.

“For the time being,” Jolthar agreed, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much death in his young years. He gripped Knashii tighter, the meter-long blade gleaming with an inner light that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Jolthar knew, with cold certainty, that he couldn’t win against that thing alone.

The monstrous entity took another thunderous step forward, its massive form blocking out the moon hung on the horizon. It wasn’t fazed by the wound and more importantly, their faces turned pale when they noticed the wound was starting to heal, the flesh was mending itself, covering the wound.

Within no time, the wound was healed, like it wasn’t there before.